


Rain

by RedChucks



Category: Nathan Barley (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:25:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedChucks/pseuds/RedChucks
Summary: Post window jump drabble.





	Rain

Dan opened his eyes in the darkness and listened as the silence gave way to the sound of rain. It tatted against the roof and walls and windows as it turned itself on, from a few drops to a full out storm. Dan’s favourite kind of music. Nature’s white noise. God he’d missed it. 

It had rained when he’d been in the hospital, he’d seen pounding against the double glass of the window like it was trying to get in, but it couldn’t, and the sound had been all wrong. It hadn’t been proper rain, not like this. This was rain he could feel, without even being out in it. He rolled on to his back in the bed, eyes closed and smile lazy, and let the sound overtake him.

The thinness of The House of Jones seemed to let the rain’s music in like a shell and hold it there. Thunder rolled and Dan shivered in response, feeling the strength of the rainfall increasing and dissolving his human form until he finally felt free. 

Usually the feeling of dissolving was more like breaking down. Usually it was in response to humiliation and he felt crushed and deformed and barely fucking human. But this... this felt like the brick-a-brack, crumbling, mess of a human being he had become was being washed away. 

He was vaguely aware of the door opening, closing, locking. He was aware of the footfalls in the hallway that matched the beat of the storm, but they only made his smile widen, and he kept his eyes closed as the air shifted in the room. Once upon a time Dan hadn’t understood sound, but his ears had been trained and beaten and honed until now he could hear, woven in to the music of the rain, that he wasn’t alone. And then the bed dipped and a body, shivering and wet, as if made by the heavens and sent down with the rains, pressed against his, and brought him back to life.

As they brushed and slipped and explored his skin, Dan arched in to the contact, sure that he would never tire of Jones’ hands. They were delicate, artist hands, ever moving and fluttering, but they were strong too, and callused from his work and the contrast of the soft skin of his palms with the rough pads of his fingers as they travelled over every inch of Dan’s skin made him moan, the sound disappearing in the rain’s symphony.

His hips bucked up as Jones’ explorations reached his thighs, spreading his legs and giving himself over entirely to the storm and to Jones and to the feeling of delicious dissolution. When Jones’ mouth locked on to his he began to sigh, high and shallow, and felt the dark laugh that came in reply as Jones pushed their chests together and moved his hand from Dan’s thigh to his groin. 

Thunder rumbled through the darkness, coming in thick waves beneath the rain and Dan tensed himself for the lightening, but it did not come. The dark safety of The House of Jones refused to allow it and in the deep blackness of the night Dan kissed Jones more surely and sent out his own seeking hand, brushing his fingers between Jones’ wiry curls until he felt the man buck against his hand as he touched him. 

He circled his fingers slowly but firmly, letting Jones’ movements guide him until they were moving in sync, in time with the rain, he realised, and his senses were filled with the pounding on the roof and walls and windows, and in his chest and skull. And Jones’ lips and tongue were wet, his skin damp, his stubble harsh against Dan’s own, and Dan felt, finally, blessedly, alive, and whole and real again.

He felt Jones orgasm around his fingers, heard him moan against Dan’s mouth and let a laugh burst forth as his own orgasm rippled through him with a final murmur of thunder. The rain continued, light and relieved, or so it seemed to Dan, and Jones ragged breathing was in time with it, with the new rhythm, as he threw himself back on the mattress and stretched like a satisfied cat. Dan listened. Opened his eyes in the darkness. Smiled. 

God, how he had missed this. He hadn’t even known, hadn’t put listening to rain and fucking in the dark, on the list of things he missed while in hospital, but he had, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one.

“Fuck, Dan, I love you,” Jones’ voice wove through the midnight between them, and Dan reached out his hand until he could tangle his fingers with that of his lover.  
He nodded, knowing Jones would hear and understand, and let the rain rock him to sleep.


End file.
